


Home Comforts

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Modesty Blaise - Peter O'Donnell
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:40:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28017105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: Fraser returns from a mission physically in one piece, but mentally is another story.
Relationships: Jack Fraser/Gerald Tarrant
Kudos: 1





	Home Comforts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fredbassett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fredbassett/gifts).



> Written as a Christmas present for the lovely fredbassett who gave the prompt “Jack Fraser coming back from a bad experience on a mission”.

Jack Fraser had never felt more like Lady Macbeth as he stared down at hands he knew had to be perfectly clean but which felt tainted and sticky with dried blood. This hadn't been his first death in service, not even the first time he'd lost a colleague and a friend but the brutality exhibited by the enemy, the callous disregard for all pretence of dignity, was something that he couldn't quite fathom.

He trudged up the stairs to his office, ignoring the man on Reception who picked up a phone as soon as he thought Fraser was out of sight. All he wanted was a stiff drink and then he'd have to write his report, now, while the horror of what he had seen could bleed out fresh onto the paper and spare his dreams.

He saw Tarrant out of the corner of his eye but ignored him in favour of moving towards the plush sofa opposite his desk and sitting down. He'd meant to move further than this but somehow it seemed too much effort.

He stared glumly down at his shoes, vaguely aware of Tarrant moving around him. He felt a glass of brandy pushed into his hand and automatically drank it before Tarrant took the glass away.

“You're staying with me tonight.”

Fraser, feeling impossibly tired and aching in every limb wanted to protest but the words wouldn't come. Instead he nodded and let Tarrant manhandle him gently until they were in Tarrant's car being driven to his London home. The driver was one of the best, discreet as could be hoped for, but even so they kept to their sides of the car, not allowing themselves to touch though Fraser could tell that Tarrant wanted to, a rare admission of something in almost public from the other man.

Tarrant's flat was cool and quiet and Fraser could already feel something uncurl within him at the familiar scent of smoky wood and a hint of tobacco. Fraser trudged slowly at Tarrant's direction into the study and sat down on the leather sofa. Tarrant pressed a hand to his shoulder and then poured out some drinks and spoke quietly to his butler, arranging for some food to be brought up from the kitchen.

While Tarrant was out of the room Fraser slowly removed his jacket and folded it neatly on the back of a chair and removed his shoes. He was lying lengthwise along the sofa with his eyes closed tight when he heard Tarrant come back.

“I shouldn't have asked you to...”

“I volunteered,” Fraser interrupted, eyes still closed. “It was my decision.”

“You seem to forget who's in charge here,” Tarrant said lightly, pulling forward a chair and sitting down close enough that he could reach out and touch Fraser if he wanted.

Fraser smiled slightly. “No I haven't.”

Tarrant huffed a small laugh and dared to reach out and stroke a finger against Fraser's hand. Fraser hummed contentedly.

The butler came in and efficiently laid out a folded table with a selection of cold cuts, cheese, pate and fruit. He poured out glasses of water, put some pills into Tarrant's outstretched hand and disappeared as quietly as he had appeared.

“You should eat something,” Tarrant said. “And take these.”

Fraser opened his eyes, sighed, and pushed himself up to a seated position. He held out his hand and Tarrant passed over the pills, which he swallowed quickly, followed by a glass of water that Tarrant also pressed into his hands.

Fraser finished the water and poured himself another which he also finished in quick succession. Tarrant spread some pate on toast and handed it over; Fraser dutifully took it with a small smile and chewed slowly.

“The report _can_ wait until the morning,” Tarrant said. “I already have a good idea of what happened.”

“No you don't,” Fraser disagreed, but there was no heat behind his words. Just the certainty that no one who hadn't been there could have any understanding of what had happened. And as he was the only one still standing, that meant only he could fill in the blanks to the torture his friend Adam Blake had suffered before his death.

“No, I suppose I don't.”

Tarrant carefully helped himself to some cheese, as Fraser took the bowl of grapes and sat them on his lap.

“I don't remember the last time I had anything to eat,” Fraser said, a little dazed.

“Don't gorge yourself too much, then. Take it carefully.”

Fraser nodded, helping himself to a few more grapes and then replacing the bowl on the table and slowly spreading more pate on toast that he left to one side for the moment.

“Thank you,” Fraser said.

Tarrant raised an eyebrow. “You have nothing to thank me for.”

Fraser shook his head. “Not true. Never true.”

Tarrant put his hand on Fraser's leg and squeezed. “Come on, let's get you to bed.”

* * * * *

By some mutual agreement over the past year Tarrant had set aside two drawers and some wardrobe space for Fraser's use, as well as space in the bathroom. It was to here that Fraser first headed, insisting on a quick shower even though he had already showered several times since returning to the UK.

He rested his head against the shower wall as the warm water pummelled his aching shoulders and back, his eyes falling shut. He could still smell the blood and hear the cries of his friend. He hadn't got there in time to save him and the revenge he'd enacted in his name just left him feeling hollow instead of satisfied.

There was a soft knock at the door and Fraser straightened up his shoulders and stepped out of the shower. He knew perfectly well that becoming maudlin would not help and that horrific as the scenes he'd faced just days ago were, he had encountered similar before and he would no doubt encounter worse in the future.

He stared grimly at his reflection in the mirror, unsure whether these thoughts were as comforting as he would like.

“May I come in?” Tarrant asked quietly.

“Of course.”

Fraser had dried himself and pulled on a soft fleece dressing gown by the time Tarrant came in and, in a rare case of spontaneous affection, pulled Fraser into a hug. Fraser tensed and then allowed himself to relax.

“I've just spoken to the clean up crew,” Tarrant said. “Blake is to be repatriated tomorrow. The cover story will hold and his wife and children will be told there was an unfortunate accident while he was driving to work.”

“Definitely for the best,” Fraser mumbled into Tarrant's chest.

“Come on, bed.”

Fraser nodded, then paused as Tarrant moved away. “I'm not sure why it's affecting me like this. I've done – it's not like I'm a fresh recruit.”

Tarrant tsked quietly. “He was your friend. And the – barbarity – I'd be far more worried if you weren't affected by what you had seen.”

Fraser looked up into Tarrant's eyes and Tarrant waited, letting Fraser take his fill. Finally he nodded and moved towards the bed where Tarrant had laid out his pyjamas.

They dressed in companionable silence and then slipped into bed, Fraser automatically shifting towards Tarrant who pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. There would be time for exploring each other's bodies later, when Fraser was willing to let Tarrant check him over for injuries, to assure himself that the first medical assessment from the field was accurate, but for now it was enough that they were there together.

Fraser knew that Tarrant would have been worried while he was away and equally that he would not have allowed anyone else to see it. He hoped that Tarrant had sought out some counsel for his fears and he'd ask about it in the morning, when his own shields were securely back in place. Now though was the time to sleep, to let the nightmares come, as he knew they would, confident that Tarrant would be there each time he woke, silent but comforting and most importantly not judging. Never judging.

“Sleep,” Tarrant whispered and Fraser slowed his breathing and did just that, knowing that he was truly safe at last.


End file.
